Husky mushing in Lapland

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We’re freezing and in the middle of nowhere, but there’s loads to do with a group of children who are determined to see Santa

It’s minus 29C, and I’ve never been so cold. My fingers are burning with the
cold and I’m wearing so many layers, topped by special overalls supplied by
the hotel, that I make the Michelin man look anorexic.

“I don’t like Lapland any more, it’s too cold,” moans my four-year-old son as
we set off husky mushing in the weird half-light that prevails here. The
mass of howling, barking, biting dogs are so keen that I forget about the
cold and concentrate instead on stamping as hard as I can on the brake to
stop us toppling over.